


Disclosure

by ComeChaos



Series: One Crack in the Stone [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Fights, First Time, Harbinger - Freeform, Hayes POV, M/M, Slash, Slow Burn, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeChaos/pseuds/ComeChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hayes's and Reed's fight in 'Harbinger' has a different outcome. Told from Hayes's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disclosure

**Author's Note:**

> My Major Hayes is one John Matthew Hayes. The relationship tag says 'Jeremiah Hayes' because AO3 currently offers no synonyms.

_”The one crack in the stone I need  
Just the one, one fracture in the wall  
Just the one hole in the sky I need  
Just the one lock with the key”_

_– Amorphis, 'Crack in a Stone'_

* * *

My hands are slippery with Lieutenant Reed's sweat. 

He punched me full on in the face and slammed me down on the floor, so I locked his arm and threw him on his back. He made a sharp sound of pain when he landed. Now he bares his teeth at me and snarls like a trapped animal, his chest heaving.  
”Tell me something,” I yell into his face. ”Why won't you let me do my job?”  
I resist the urge to bury my elbow in his solar plexus while I'm at it. This is all his fault. He's the one who somehow turned a simple sparring match into a showdown. 

The next thing I know, he hooks his legs around me and sends me flying through the air. No doubt he is _very_ pleased with himself. 

As we face each other again, both of us back on our feet, Reed finally has the decency to respond to my question.  
”Because you're here to enhance the combat capacity of this crew, not take over security!”  
 _Of all the paranoid bullshit –_  
”Is that what this is all about?” I ask in disbelief. ”You think I want to replace _you_?”  
My cheek is throbbing from where he hit me, and my back isn't faring much better. The Lieutenant's voice is dripping with venom.  
”Oh, you just can't _stand_ taking orders from me, can you?”

He's bouncing on his toes again, and I decide right then that if I was ever waiting for my cue, it has just arrived. Reed lunges even as he finishes the sentence, but he is far too slow. I block his attempt and throw an uppercut that sends him reeling. For a second, he looks as if he might go down just from that. I step back and watch him closely as he regains his balance. Hopefully that one did some damage to his little ego. At least I've probably taught him to talk less while fighting.

Reed lunges at me again. I deflect his attack and get in another punch. Can't he see that he's practically begging for it? I kept playing his game even when he broke the rules and went out for blood, but sometimes enough is enough, and if he won't understand when to quit, I have every right to step up. He has given me my cue twice over.

He dodges my next punch, but the move gives me an opening to push him back with a kick to his chest. He might want to keep those elbows closer.  
”I have _no_ problems taking orders from you,” I declare.  
Then I swing around and execute a finishing kick to his head. 

Direct hit. The smack reverberates throughout the room, and Reed goes down like a ton of bricks. Endorphins soar through my system.  
”After lunar survival training,” I add, ”I can handle just about anything. Good sparring with you!”

I stride quickly toward the exit, crouching down to pick up my jacket on the way. I can't wait to hit the shower and wash all this sweat and insanity off me. I'm already in the corridor when something that sounds suspiciously like my name reaches my ears. My anger urges me to keep moving, but there's something about that sound that makes me stop for a moment.  
” _Hayes,_ ” a voice says again.  
Definitely my name this time. Definitely Reed's voice, though it sounds remarkably faint and strangled. A second later it is followed by a series of coughs. My entire body goes cold as I turn around and head back.

Reed is lying exactly where I left him, stomach down. The first sign of trauma is the blood trickling down the side of his face and his chin. Fractured eyebrow bone, knocked-out teeth? Superficial. A damaged neck or trachea may have no visible symptoms. I throw myself down on my knees beside him.  
”Can you breathe?”

_Oh god, please._

I can perform an airway puncture _in simulations._ I start racing through the steps in my mind before I remember that I'm not even carrying anything sharp.

Reed is blinking and shifting slightly, and through the haze of adrenaline, I finally manage to form the thought that I'd have noticed by now if he was choking.  
”Yes,” he wheezes through swollen lips, forcing a stiff laugh as he adds: ”I guess I just lost my breath a little.”  
His attempt at laughing prompts more coughing, and I watch in him wince in pain as the tremors shake him. I get to my feet.  
”Don't move,” I tell him firmly as I rush over to the companel. ”Hayes to Sickbay. Medical emergency!”

By the time I turn my attention back to Reed, he has already succeeded in ignoring my instruction and sat up, leaning heavily on both arms. My chest feels like it's going to explode.  
”I said don't move, you piece of shit!”  
The seconds it takes me to get back to his side are far too long.  
”You may have broken your neck! What the hell do you think you're doing?”  
Reed works his jaw and spits a mouthful of blood on the floor between us.  
”I haven't broken my neck,” he snarls and then looks almost surprised as my words seem to hit him. ”Who's a _piece of shit?_ ”

The left side of his face is becoming caked with blood as well. I take a deep breath and try to surface above my raging emotions.  
”I am,” I say.  
My fault or not, the Lieutenant is just another man down, and that's how I'm supposed to deal with him. Professionally. Not like this.

_Please, just cooperate. Just let me._

My statement provokes no reaction whatsoever. I watch as Reed's expression changes from furious to blank in seconds, and it's not a good sign. I reach out and tap his shoulder.  
”Sir, I need you to look at me.”  
Glassy, storm grey eyes meet mine. I hold them as calmly as I can.  
”What's the last thing I said to you before I left?”

Reed tilts his head to the side in a series of small movements, as if he's trying to shake off a case of double vision.  
”That – you have no problem – taking orders –”  
I swallow and raise a hand to interrupt him.  
”That's not the last thing. I said something about lunar survival training.”  
Reed blinks hard.  
”Really,” he mumbles flatly.

He opens his right eye a little while keeping the left one closed tightly, and I realise that by tilting his head, he's got blood in his eye as well.

 _I did this to him. I kicked him in the fucking head and didn't even look at him afterward, because I was too busy rolling my eyes. What kind of man does that? What the hell was I thinking?_

_”TACTICAL ALERT,”_ the intercom announces. _”SENIOR OFFICERS TO THEIR POSTS.”_

_This can't be happening._

Reed scrambles for purchase.  
”Oh no, you don't,” I bark, gripping his shoulders to hold him in place.  
The look he gives me with that slit of an eye once more promises murder.  
”I knocked you out,” I insist, amazed by the levelness of my voice. ”You're in no condition to take your post.”  
”Then leave me here and take yours,” Reed growls.  
My detachment wavers for the second time. I must be hesitating for a full three seconds before my brain wires itself back right again and I realise the order isn't open for debate. I give Reed's shoulders a hard squeeze before letting go.  
”Stay down and awake, Lieutenant.”

As I run down the corridor, I purge my mind of everything but the job ahead. For a moment, I take comfort in feeling like myself again. Then I let go of introspection as well.

* * *

When I was assigned to this mission, I tried to have as few expectations as possible. Preconceptions seemed like a dangerous liability when you were setting out to go where no human had gone before. Nevertheless, there were some things I inevitably took for granted.

I expected to do my duty. I had no illusions about our chances of succeeding with the mission, or about the chances of my own survival, but I never once doubted that every single of us would do everything in our power to protect the citizens of Earth. I didn't expect to meet resistance from inside, and I certainly never thought I'd find myself so inept at dealing with it. I've always fitted myself seamlessly into any chain of command. I expected that part of me to remain the same, even out here.

When I studied Lieutenant Reed's profile before boarding the Enterprise, I got the impression that we had a lot in common. I can't remember anymore what lead me to that conclusion, because as soon as we met, it became clear how wrong I had been.

I found him to be short and awkward – even slender. He didn't look an inch taller than his file had stated. I didn't doubt that he deserved his place on the Bridge of this ship, but pushing buttons on a console and tinkering with torpedo launchers has nothing to do with the art of leading soldiers in combat. 

Nevertheless, having recovered from my initial disappointment, I can't deny that Reed slowly began to grow on me. Some part of me enjoyed his company, and he didn't seem to go to any lengths to avoid mine either. Most of the time talking to him was like running head first into a wall, but I kept expecting him to loosen up eventually and begin to trust my competence. I should have known enough to pull out at the first sign of real trouble.

_I'm a MACO officer. I believe in discipline, not random acts of violence. There's a reason I was chosen for this job. Reed provoked me, but I'm the one who allowed myself to be provoked. I'm the idiot who didn't know when to quit._

”Would you hold still, please?”

The Doctor's voice rips me out of my miserable thoughts. I jerk my head to the side, causing him to give me a tired look. He waves the hypospray in my face before aiming for my neck again, his patience clearly wearing thin. I push his hand away.  
”Doctor, with all due respect, I shouldn't be your priority right now.”  
”On the contrary. Our alien guest has yet to regain consciousness, and I can't put Lieutenant Reed in the imaging chamber as long as he keeps vomiting. I would already be _done_ with you if you'd stayed still, by the way.”

I surrender, and the hypospray is pressed against my skin with a faint hiss. Doctor Phlox is right. I'm just making more of a mess by refusing the analgesic he's apparently bent on giving me.

The Sickbay doors slide open just as the sound of another violent retching echoes through the room. Captain Archer looks a little stricken when he enters.  
”Report?”  
I jump off the biobed and stand at attention.  
”Major Hayes here suffered a bruised left kidney,” the Doctor says matter-of-factly. ”He'll be in pain for a day or two and should be off heavy duty. Lieutenant Reed, however, has a detached retina and possibly a quite severe concussion – I haven't been able to complete the scans yet. But you'd be happy to know that the rest of the crew seem to have come down with only minor trauma. I'm keeping Commander Tucker for observation, but I'm positive he'll be back on duty before you know it.”

”What about the alien?”  
”Still unconscious. I'll alert you as soon as there's any change.”  
”I don't suppose you'd let me talk to Malcolm?”  
”That might not be a good idea at the moment, Captain.”  
”Very well. _Major._ ”  
The Captain's tone sharpens minutely when he addresses me.  
”I want you in my ready room in ten minutes. You have some explaining to do.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall until the doors swish shut again. The Doctor is fussing over a padd, and I take it to mean that he's done with me. I'll have just enough time to change into my duty uniform without risking being late.

My thoughts stray back to Reed as I march toward my quarters. As soon as the situation in Engineering had been taken care of, I commed Sickbay for the second time to make sure that he had been brought in. The voice on the other end asked me if I could provide any details about what had happened. I can't remember what I said.

Damn useful I was in Engineering, by the way. Reed should have been there – not me. In the end, the still standing members of the engineering crew managed to do something to the engine that took the alien trespasser out while he was trying to manipulate it. Afterward, they took one look at my face and promptly declined my offer to help with their wounded crewmates. I made up the rear as we proceeded toward Sickbay and kept myself in the background while the others were tended to. I tried to catch a glimpse of Reed – to make sure he was okay, that he wasn't forgotten and left to his own. I didn't care if he would see me lurking about in there. I had a responsibility. 

I never saw him, however. He was kept behind a curtain during my entire stay. When I slam the button to open the door to my quarters, it's still with the image of him as I left him behind on the floor on my mind. I pull off my shirt and make a quick detour to the bathroom, splashing cold water into my face and drying it roughly on the nearest towel. Taking a look at myself in the mirror, I decide to forgive the engineering crew for their reaction to me. My left cheek as well as half my forehead are turning purple. I suppose I must look rather bad to Starfleet eyes.

When I'm forced to bend down and change my pants and shoes, I finally admit that maybe the analgesic wasn't such a bad idea. If it wasn't for that stupid kick, Reed wouldn't be stranded in Sickbay with a brain trauma. He'd be getting the dressing down of his life right beside me.

* * *

”Major,” the Captain says neutrally when I enter his ready room.  
Then he makes me wait for a full minute before he rises from his desk and addresses me again. It doesn't really intimidate me. It's something of a classic – I've been known to do it myself from time to time.

”I think you can imagine my surprise when Phlox commed me to explain that the two of you had been admitted to Sickbay, due to injuries that you received _prior_ to the situation in Engineering.”  
The Captain paces across the room and comes to a halt in front of me.  
”Care to explain what happened?”

_I nearly killed your Chief Tactical Officer, that's what happened._

”We were sparring, sir. It got out of hand, sir.”  
”It got out of hand? You're damn right it got out of hand!”  
He's shouting in my face now. I think of how I must still be smelling of Reed's sweat.  
”We're in a dangerous region of space,” the Captain barks. ”We're trying to stop an alien race from destroying Earth. We face attacks from all sides, enemies everywhere we go. The last thing I need is to hear that two of my senior officers have been admitted to Sickbay because they suddenly regressed to the level of five-year-olds!”  
He pauses and takes a deep breath.  
”I don't know what the problem is between you two, and to tell you the truth, I don't care. But I can't have an officer serving on my ship who goes about incapacitating his crewmates. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

_I miscalculated. It was an accident._

”No, sir. I used excessive force. It was completely unwarranted, sir.”  
Captain Archer looks me over for another moment before he turns away and steps over to the companel.  
”I agree,” he says, sounding more tired than angry now. ”And that's why I'm confining you to the brig until I know what to do with you.”  
He sends for one of Reed's people to escort me. I guess I prefer that to one of my own.

* * *

The fibreglass in the cell doors is reinforced with a metal grid of intersecting circles. For a while I occupy myself by seeing how fast I can approximate a head count. Given that 'circle' is an area unit, the triangular glass segments make it possible to work with a single basic geometric formula. Perhaps I should kill time by counting all the circles one by one instead. 

I abandon the project and lie down on my back on the lower bunk. It isn't exactly comfortable, but I refuse to curl up in a fetal position just because I got myself punched in the kidney. I wonder if Reed, too, prefers to sleep on his back. I wonder if he's sleeping right now – or if he's awake and in pain. 

No, we're certainly nothing alike, Reed and I. He may be overly paranoid and a general pain in the ass, but he'd never do anything stupid enough to find himself in Enterprise's brig. Fighting, obstructing operations, misconduct toward a superior officer. I bet that list would surprise a few people back home. Still, Reed must know that I have as much right as he does to press charges. Fighting goes for him as well, and then there's ill-treatment of a subordinate. As ridiculous as it seems, we're in this together. 

I shift and have to bite back a groan. I don't feel even remotely able to sleep, but there is a limit to how much self-pity and worry I can manage in one day. A book usually helps in these situations, but my well-worn copy of _A Farewell to Arms_ sits far out of reach on the shelf back in my quarters. I know from experience that my best option is to give my brain another problem to solve. Closing my eyes, I begin to make up a tactical scenario.

Enterprise boarded and seized. The crew relocated. We have access to a transporter that can beam six people to the ship. The team will be able to communicate with each other, but not with the rest of the crew. 

I'd pick Reed, McKenzie, Richards. Our first priority would be to prevent Enterprise from going to warp, so I'd have to bring Commander Tucker as well. The last one – that'd be Money.

I could split us into two groups: send Tucker to disrupt the engine covered by McKenzie and Richards, while Reed, Money and I make it to the transporter alcove and let Reed attempt to beam up more people. No, belay that. Money goes with Tucker as well. If we succeed with the beam ins, we'll instantly increase the complement on our site, and if the transporter can't be brought online, our group will be useless anyway. Putting as many as possible in Tucker's group is the soundest strategy.

It's me and Reed, then. Since the transporter is directly adjoined to the corridor, it leaves the person operating it extremely vulnerable. If the enemy comes from only one direction, I can lay down fire from behind cover before they get Reed into their line of sight. However, as soon as they split up and begin to use both ends of the corridor, I'll have to trust in Reed's ability to work fast while keeping half his attention on what's going on behind him.

It might even come to the point where I will have to fall back and cover him with my own body – the last desperate measure to buy him a few more crucial seconds. If I'm lucky, the transporter pad will light up just as I take the first hit. In the next moment, Woods and Hawkins will storm past us and make the process short with our attackers. Reed will turn as I collapse, gathering me in his arms and trying to assess the damage. I'll tell him to get back up and beam the next group over. My voice will be breaking. Reed will hesitate. Perhaps he'll put his hand on my cheek. _Perhaps –_

 _This is hardly relevant._

I might have to put Money in our group after all. Whoever designed that alcove must have had it approved when all the engineers in charge of security were having a day off. I wonder if we could close it off somehow, or at least install a cover for the operator. I wonder how much progress Reed has made with that EM barrier. Not that he'd take suggestions from me on how to improve the security on this ship. Especially not now.

* * *

I get a visit from Doctor Phlox in the morning.  
”How's the Lieutenant?” I ask the moment he opens the cell door.  
The Doctor gives me a slightly exasperated look as he steps in.  
”Already trying to escape from Sickbay. He'll recover soon enough.”  
The weight that lifts from my aching shoulders at those words leaves me so light it's as if the grav-plating has suddenly gone down.  
”That's good to hear,” I manage.  
”Yes,” the Doctor agrees. ”It's good for _both_ of you.”

He gestures for me to turn and starts scanning my back.  
”You seem to be getting there as well,” he says after a minute, pocketing the scanner. ”Though I suppose it hardly feels that way, hm?”  
He produces a hypospray and injects me without waiting for a reply. Within seconds, the pain throughout my body begins to dissipate. I blink a few times, shift my weight, risk straightening up fully. The Doctor smiles.  
”Better? Please, sit down.”  
For some reason, that smile instantly puts me on edge, and it's not because of the slightly alien way in which the facial muscles contract. I do as he says reluctantly.

The Doctor sits down on the other end of the bunk.  
”I had a meeting with Captain Archer, discussing the situation at hand,” he begins.  
His voice is measured and gentle, which only serves to reinforce my negative impression.  
”We both agree that the things this crew has been forced to experience these last months have been far from the ordinary. He's approved my suggestion to conduct an evaluation of your mental condition. If everything turns out fine, you can resume your duties, and the matter will be considered closed for the time being.”

He waits patiently for me to absorb the information. I hold his eyes and take a deep breath before responding.  
”With all due respect, Doctor, I do not have a stress disorder.”  
To my relief, I sound nothing but calm and reasoned. The Doctor sighs.  
”I wish I could take your word for it, Major, but this mission has been trying for all of us. There's nothing to be ashamed of.”  
I have nothing intelligent to say to that, so I stay silent.  
”I've scheduled our first session for tomorrow at twelve thirty hours. Two or three sessions ought to be enough.”  
He gives me another smile before he stands up and leaves. I think it's supposed to be reassuring. I wish it was. 

The Captain's decision is perfectly sound, but a lot could happen before this evaluation is completed. The Doctor says no more than three sessions. What if I lock up? I've survived plenty of evaluations, but they were all strictly standardised and comprised of instructions like 'tell me about your childhood' and 'please answer yes or no'. There's a reason why I can't stay in a relationship for more than three months. One direct question that probes too deep into restricted territory, and I lock up.

 _In the transporter alcove – if you took that hit for Reed, Major – if you got hurt instead of hurting him –_

_What then? What would you want from him, Matthew?_

* * *

The rest of the day goes on forever. Eventually I walk up to the door and count all the circles in it, just because the task is so dull it becomes an acceptable challenge in discipline. 

When lunch and dinner arrive, I eat dutifully, trying to push away the thought that someone has specifically instructed the Chef to deliver pity rather than punishment, even though the raspberry cheesecake that shows up for dessert makes it hard. In the late afternoon, the effects of the hypospray slowly wear off, and I stop pacing in favour of lying down.

A couple of hours later, I awake from a nap I wasn't aware I had been succumbing to. I abandon my bunk and climb onto the upper one for a change of pace and scenery. The ceiling gets a little closer, but that's all. I resist the urge to punch the wall. Under any other set of circumstances, I'd have handled my situation just fine. I'm a MACO. Boredom is not an issue, and neither is confined spaces.

It's just that it's becoming increasingly hard to think of anything but the Lieutenant, and I have no idea what to do about it. I become engrossed in tasks and puzzles. I analyse, solve, and complete. Then I move onto the next one. I don't become engrossed with _people_.

But now I want to know if Reed would cry when I died for him – if that last sacrifice would be enough to bridge the bleeding rift between us. And then I picture him lost and hurting in my absence, and the next thing I know I'm not dead anymore, but there with him, and I dry his tears, because he'll let no one else do it, never lets anyone see, but I know what it's like to feel without showing it, and he looks at me like –

The brig door hisses open. Someone has come to save me from myself.

 _Someone_ turns out to be Lieutenant Reed. Startled, I swing myself off the bunk and get down on the floor a little too resolutely for my injured kidney. I come to attention in a sudden haze of pain and nausea, and I pray to whatever powers that my eyes won't tear up. If Reed notices anything, he ignores it. His mouth is still visibly swollen, but it's nothing compared to how the area around his left eye now matches the colour of his uniform. 

”Major,” he says levelly, after opening the comlink between us.  
”Sir.”  
For a long minute, I stand there and feel him watching me. The comline transmits the sound of his slow, measured breathing.  
”At ease,” he says eventually.  
I allow myself to look at him directly again. He meets my eyes, and the circles in the cell door form a minefield between us.

I clear my throat.  
”Sir, I want to apologise.”  
I sound like an idiot, but he must know he's not making it easy for me. Reed licks his lips before curling them into a faint smirk.  
”Noted. For the record, you look don't very handsome either.”

He doesn't sound angry. I was prepared to deal with his resentment, but this confuses me. Does he think there's something wrong with my mental health too? I try to come up with something more to say, but Reed beats me to it.  
”I spoke to the Captain before coming here,” he says. ”I told him what happened was an accident. I asked him to let you back on duty without any delay.”  
I step closer until my face is almost touching the door.  
”Wait. You went to the Captain and appealed to him for my release?”  
My voice hitches, and I have to clear my throat again.  
”May I ask why?”

Reed shakes his head to himself.  
”Because I'd be as much of an idiot _now_ as we both were last night if I'd refuse to swallow my bloody pride and do what's best for this mission. You're not much use in there, you know.”  
He makes a small pause, averting his eyes for a moment.  
”And if you're wondering about charges, I won't be pressing any. What happened was as much my fault as yours.”  
He snaps his mouth shut after the last word and stands up straighter, looking past me.

”You didn't tell me what the Captain said,” I mention carefully.  
”Oh, he wanted Phlox to go through with your evaluation, but I was adamant that it wasn't needed.”  
I raise my eyebrows slightly, and Reed catches it.  
”Well, if you're anything like me, you don't want Phlox to go poking around in your brain,” he offers lightly.  
After a moment's hesitation, I risk returning his smile.  
”You're probably right about that.”  
Reed lets out a little huff, and for a moment, we awkwardly try our hands at sharing a small laughter, though I suspect it sounds more like we're trying not to choke.

”The Captain wanted you to stay in here for another night, though,” Reed says, sobering up again. ”Is there anything I can get you? I mean – any project you happen to have on a padd or something?”  
I find that I can barely think straight anymore, but luckily it's not too hard a question.  
”The second and third padd in the leftmost stack on my desk contain pending readiness assessments.”  
”Second and third in the leftmost stack. Got it.”  
”Thank you, sir.”  
”Just doing myself a favour by keeping you on schedule, Major. I'll be back shortly.”  
He gives me a nod before he turns and leaves. 

I remain standing for a moment, staring at the door in surprise. When Reed asked if I needed anything, I naturally assumed he would send someone else to get it. _He should be resting – not running errands like a crewman!_ Accepting that it's too late to stop him, I slump down on the bunk to consider my new immediate future. Something has transpired that I can't even begin to understand, but what has been said is clear enough. I allow myself a heavy sigh of relief.

* * *

Reed returns with a determined spring in his step only minutes later.  
”Second and third in the leftmost stack,” he repeats, handing me the padds.  
I activate them and skim through their contents while the Lieutenant peaks at them from upside down.  
”These are the right ones,” I tell him. ”Thank you, sir.”  
Reed clears his throat deliberately.  
”According to protocol,” he says, dragging the words out a little, ”I'm authorised to escort you to and from hygiene facilities. Would you like to take a shower in your quarters, Major?”

My confusion must be writing itself all over my face.  
”Um, thank you, sir, but it won't be necessary.”  
Reed gives me his most unofficerlike expression – the one where he turns his head sideways and squints a little while trying to repress a grin of distress.  
” _Actually,_ you stink. You haven't had a shower since before we sparred, have you?”  
Suddenly I feel the same embarrassed smile threatening to creep onto my own face.  
”No, sir,” I manage. ”Um, no, I haven't.”  
”I won't make it an order,” Reed says softly, taking half a step back.  
I get my facial muscles under control again.  
”A shower sounds fine, sir. I'm ready when you are.”

Reed puts his hand on my shoulder when we leave the brig, and I regret thinking of him as looking unofficerlike. At least he manages to hide his discomfort with the way I apparently smell. I soon begin to notice that each time we run into another officer, the Lieutenant tightens his grip on me and squeezes a little. I wonder if he's aware that he's doing it.

The hand lets go of me as soon as we enter my quarters. I don't know why I expected it to stay.

”Here we are,” Reed says.  
I turn around to face him. Since my detainment seems to become more of a charade with every passing moment, I don't think he will care to protest if I speak freely for a minute.  
”Sir, if you don't mind, I'd very much like to know how my team is holding up.”  
Reed tilts his head, as if there is something surprising about my question.  
”You can check for yourself tomorrow,” he suggests with a strained smile.  
An unpleasant thought hits me.  
”You _have_ talked to them, haven't you?”  
The last thing I want is to be fooling around with Reed while my team thinks they've lost their CO. Reed's eyes widen.  
”Of course I have!”  
”And –?”  
”Major,” Reed tries.

He presses his lips together for a moment before continuing, voice slightly louder than necessary.  
”I briefed them face to face before I went to the Captain, and then again afterward over the com. It's just – I can't read your people that well. And it's not as if they lined up to pour out their deepest feelings to me.”  
The hint of pain in his eyes hits me in the gut. I sigh.  
”I'm sorry, sir. If it makes you feel any better, they don't usually do that to me either.”  
Reed shakes his head, but I'm not sure if he thinks I'm stating the obvious or if he finds my statement implausible.  
”Why don't you go take that shower, Major.”  
”Yes, sir.”

I send Reed a grateful thought once I stand under the hot water. Although the pain in my back and abdomen is starting to get bearable even without pain meds, the warmth feels heavenly. The face that meets me in the mirror when I dry off looks somewhat better than last time, and I'm feeling quite content until I'm about to put my uniform back on. The uniform that I have worn for nearly twenty-four hours and even slept in while being covered in dried sweat. It wouldn't do to put it back on when I'm less than five metres away from grabbing a set of fresh clothes. I wrap the towel around my waist and fasten it tightly before unlocking the bathroom door. 

Reed has moved to stand by my desk. He startles and turns toward me when I enter, but when he takes in my state, he quickly looks down again. He has placed himself in the direct path from the bathroom to my closet, so I'm forced to walk around him. I bend down and take cover behind the closet door while picking out a pair of socks and underwear, as well as a black T-shirt and casual sweatpants.

”Where you always determined to join the military?” Reed asks suddenly.  
I straighten.  
”Sir?”  
Reed indicates the photograph in the middle of my desk. It shows a younger version of me and my mother, both in our MACO uniforms. I have my arm around her shoulders.  
”I guess it wasn't always a straight road,” I say carefully. ”But yeah. Pretty much.”  
I fold the stack of clothes in half.  
”I used to enjoy mathematics, though,” I add, because if we're going to discuss my background, I'm not about to let Reed choose the direction.

The Lieutenant's eyebrows fly up.  
”Really?”  
His expression makes me inhale harder than I had intended.  
”You're surprised,” I state flatly.  
Reed opens his mouth as if he's about to contradict me, but then seems to think better of it. He licks his lips.  
”It's just that you look good –”  
He stops and hesitates.  
”– doing, um, what you do.”

His eyes lock with mine, and he looks so mortified I almost feel bad for him. He hasn't even closed his mouth yet. The tip of his tongue flicks out over his lips again, and they are so tense I can't help but wonder if they feel like bowstrings to the touch as well. They have to be softer than they look, don't they?

I realise I'm standing wrapped in only a bath towel in front of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, who is acting as my prison escort, and I'm thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

”If you'll excuse me,” I mumble.  
I hurry past him and escape into the bathroom with the bundle of clothes clutched hard in my hand. 

* * *

The walk back to the brig is awkward, but as soon as I'm left to my own again, I begin to miss Reed's company. _Damn it._ He didn't even touch me on our way back, just let me walk half a step in front of him. I had time to become aware of the way the shirt I had picked hugged my muscles and to become more self-conscious with every step. I feel ridiculous. This is the man who licks his lips like a nervous dog, who picks fights over imagined competition, and who drives me out of my mind every time we're in the same room. On top of it all, it's only been one day since I gave him a beating that by all rights should have got me court-martialed.

After months of isolation in space, I wouldn't be surprised if some of my people were getting desperate for physical contact. As for me personally, the more work I have to do, the less important everything else usually becomes. Perhaps it's different this time because I'm not counting on returning home, but that doesn't explain why I'm experiencing attraction to Reed of all people. Our personal history aside, he looks like hell with his ruined face. So why is it that I imagine pulling him close and taking that broken lip gently between my own? 

Perhaps it's high time to get back to business and work on those readiness assessments.

* * *

He's pushing his tongue into my mouth and moaning softly with every move we make. We're doing it in the Captain's chair. The Bridge is empty but for Subcommander T'Pol and Ensign Sato, who are watching us indifferently from their stations. I bury my face in my lover's neck.  
 _”Malcolm –”_  
 _”Major –”_

”Hayes!”

My eyes fly open, and for a second I have no idea of where I am.  
”Good morning. I was beginning to think I'd have to go in there and _slap_ you awake.”  
The soft British accent is unmistakable. I'm on my back on a bunk in Enterprise's brig, and Reed is shouting at me over the comline. I sit up.  
”Sir! What time is it?”  
”Oh eight hundred. Take it easy, Major. You're not due back on duty for another hour.”

 _Oh eight hundred._ My team like to spread the rumour that one can tell the time down to the second by checking when I wake up in the morning. They're not entirely joking – it usually takes me no more than one or two weeks to adapt to a certain rhythm, and after that I set my alarm only out of habit. It must be years since I slept this long without being severely drained, ill, or concussed.

It's also been a long time since I woke up with an erection this hard.

”You could have sent someone else to wake me up,” I mumble.  
I shift my body, feigning pain to buy myself time before I will have to rise. Then I get the idea to place my hands on my back, as if I were about to stretch or massage my lower back muscles – only the pressure against my kidney hurts like hell, and just like that, my problem is taken care of.  
”I was on my way from Sickbay,” Reed says. ”It wasn't much of a detour.”  
I simply nod as I get to my feet. Reed opens the cell door.  
”Well, I'm due back on the Bridge. I trust you know your way out.”

He's off before I have time to respond, once more leaving me to stare stupidly after him. Why come down here to release me himself only to bolt the very second the task is accomplished? Has he been watching me _sleep?_

I shut down all non-essential power to the brig and close it up. Well, if Reed _did_ watch me sleep, he's the one who should be embarrassed. I know for a fact that I'm not a sleep talker, so unless the Lieutenant is a telepath, all he saw was an unconscious man with a perfectly normal case of morning wood. I'm already walking on pins and needles around him. God knows I won't let neither a sordid trick of my subconscious nor his failure to respect my dignity make it worse.

I shave and take a quick shower, reply to an automated message from Sickbay telling me that I've been scheduled for regeneration therapy, and send a message to my men, calling them to a briefing at nine hundred hours. It feels good to put on a uniform for the right reasons again. 

McKenzie joins me for a coffee in the mess hall, so I'm already fairly up to date with everything that has happened – or rather hasn't happened – in my absence when it's time for our briefing. There are no mentions of the fact that I've just spent a day and two nights in the brig, but then again, I was honest with Reed about my people's perfectly professional relationship to me. Since I'm not yet cleared for heavy duty, I put Kemper in charge of this evening's training session, and we spend some time going through the exercises I'd been planning for.

I soon end up alone with my padds again. Around lunch time, my intercom awakens.  
 _”Reed to Major Hayes.”_  
”Hayes here.”  
 _”Are you busy?”_  
”Not really.”  
 _”Good. I was wondering if you could come to the Armoury.”_

I find Reed on his hands and knees with his head inside a wall. At the sound of my footsteps, he crawls out and looks up at me.  
”Ah, Major.”  
He gestures to the insides of the wall section.  
”All these circuits need to be manually realigned, but with my eye, it's taking me a lot longer than it should. As you're no doubt aware, we're already behind schedule.  
I nod solemnly.  
”Just tell me what you want me to do.”  
”Well, since it's all your fault, you could get down here and take over.”

I stiffen before I notice that he's smirking at me again. He moves aside to give me room and hands me the spanner he's been using.  
”How bad is it?” I ask.  
Reed makes a displeased face.  
”The response time of the targeting scanners is going to be substandard until we get this grid back in shape. Not by much, but out here, a millisecond could mean the difference between life and death.”  
”I meant your eye.”  
”Oh. Phlox said I'll have normal vision well within two weeks. He claimed he had a way to speed up my recovery, but I told him that if it involved flesh-eating animals in close proximity to my brain, I wasn't interested.”

I find myself laughing warily for the second time at something Reed has said.  
”It's probably for the best,” I agree.  
”I thought so. The first four from the left are finished. Unlock the fifth one and read me the numbers on it.”  
”I hope you realise I've never done this before.”  
”Don't worry, Major, I wouldn't let you anywhere near any of the sensitive equipment.”  
I throw a glance at him, unable to tell if he's being serious or not this time. He's looking expectantly at the spanner in my hand, however, so I give up and get to work.

The task turns out to be every bit as tricky as I feared. I quickly memorise the most frequent sets of procedures, but the practice is harder than the theory. Clearly my hands weren't made for this. Reed's hands are long and slender – even beautiful. I promise myself that I will try my hardest to stay polite no matter how smug he will get about my ineptness, but when the better part of an hour has passed, Reed still has to be anything but professional. I guess that with his impaired depth perception, I'm still doing the work substantially faster than he could have done it. Having him crouched on the floor next to me while I'm working is far from bad. He has a nice voice when he isn't yelling.

Maybe this is as good a time as I can hope for to bring something else up.

”Sir, I have a proposal I'd like to discuss with you.”  
There's a small pause before Reed tells me to go ahead.  
”Access to the transporter is of the highest strategic importance,” I begin, because at least that's not something he can argue with. ”Yet the transporter is completely unprotected against hostiles on board that might want to stop us from using it. At the moment we'd have to seal off the entire midsection of the deck to keep enemies out, or the operator will risk getting shot in the back from two directions.”  
I stop and wait for a response, confident that I've got my point across and not wanting to overdo it.

”Are you planning to redesign the ship, Major?”  
Reed sounds less than enthusiastic. I take a break from what I'm doing and sit up to look at him.  
”I'm not planning to do anything. I simply wanted to bring the problem to your attention, _sir_.”  
The Lieutenant narrows his eyes.  
”Is that so? Because it sounds to me as if you're having concerns about my ability to correctly assess and manage tactical situations on board this ship.”  
He articulates every word with such bizarre precision that I can barely focus on what he's saying. I want to slap him. I want to shove him against the wall and kiss him senseless. I want to make him _understand_.

”Haven't we already been through this?” I say instead.  
”It seems like someone didn't learn his lesson,” Reed answers, his voice deceptively soft.  
”Yeah,” I agree. ”That'd be you.”  
” _Major –_ ” he warns me, but I'm not about to drop the matter.  
”I don't want you to die sprawled over that transporter console just because you were too proud and too paranoid to take one simple suggestion from me into consideration!”

Reed's eyebrows knit together sharply.  
”Is that what you're worried about? You're worried I'll get myself killed because I can't take care of myself _or_ the rest of this crew?”  
”I didn't say that.”  
I make an effort to soften my voice, aware that I won't get through to him by screaming.  
”Is it really so impossible for you to understand that I don't want to fight you?”  
”Huh. I seem to remember you were willing enough two days ago.”  
”Listen. You have no idea how guilty I feel for –”

_”Phlox to Major Hayes.”_

We stare at each other for several seconds without moving. Then Reed breaks eye contact and looks at my sleeve pocket. I fish out my communicator and answer the hail.  
 _”There you are,”_ The Doctor's voice chirps. _”I just wanted to let you know that I have the imaging chamber standing by for you.”_  
I look at Reed, who nods curtly.  
”I'll be there right away,” I answer.  
I'm already on my feet when I realise I'm still holding the spanner. I hold it out to Reed, who snatches it from me and immediately diverts his attention back to the grid.  
”I'll finish this myself,” he says, crawling into the wall. ”See you at nineteen hundred.”

* * *

Doctor Phlox gives me a small smile when I enter – twelve minutes late and with my tail firmly stuck between my legs.  
”Ah, Major. Glad you could make it. I hope you didn't have to interrupt anything too important. Not that your treatments aren't important enough to warrant _some_ interruption, of course. Please, lie down.”  
I get onto the examination bed, still thinking about my argument with Reed.  
”No harm done,” I mutter.  
”Glad to hear it. I hope your day so far has been more pleasant than mine,” the Doctor says lightly as he runs the usual handheld scanner over my body.  
It takes me a minute to realise he might have expected an answer to that, but by then it's too late. For my part, I'm happy to stay silent.

”Did you know you have a very nice genome?” the Doctor says suddenly.  
This is a straight question. _Damn it._  
”Um, no, I didn't.”  
”Well, you do. I always have the DNA of my patients analysed for calibration of the imaging chamber, so I took a look at yours while I was waiting. Some sequences were quite impressive. I can imagine you were quite resistant to infections as a child, hm? ”  
He chuckles to himself as if he's made some kind of inside joke.  
”The human immune system is fascinating in all its primitiveness,” he adds with emphasis. ”Though not nearly as fascinating as your social behaviours!”

He moves over to the console and begins tapping.  
”I truly regret not spending more time studying human sociology properly before the Xindi attacked. I had nearly written you off as a comparatively _docile_ species, but in the light of recent events, it seems that at least some of you are naturally capable of exhibiting behaviours that are both complex and surprisingly violent.”  
He looks up and gives me a wink.  
”Actually, it didn't become obvious to me until I witnessed Lieutenant Reed's reaction to your imprisonment.”

Hearing Reed's name makes me jump. I look up at the ceiling while the Doctor keeps moving about in my peripheral vision.  
”You could have _told_ me it was a pre-mating ritual. I'm afraid that 'I don't have a stress disorder' was a little imprecise.”  
 _A what?_ As my brain slowly processes what I think I just heard, I decide that the ceiling panels are indeed immensely interesting. _Oh god. If I'm ever to be swallowed by a spatial anomaly, right now would be a good time._

Unfortunately, the space-time continuum remains stable, but the Doctor must have noticed my distress, because he comes to stand next to the bed and smiles down at me.  
”Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he points out. ”You have nothing to worry about.”  
He presses a button and the bed starts moving.  
”In you go, Major. This will take about twenty minutes. Don't hesitate to press the red button right above you if you're experiencing any discomfort.”

_Sorry, Doctor, but I don't think any button in the world will help me right now._

The chamber hatch closes. At least I'm alone for now. The air is gradually becoming warmer, the lights are low, and a faint humming noise surrounds me. I suppose it could be quite relaxing – if you're not programmed with a compulsion to always stay aware of your surroundings. For all I know, the ship could be boarded and seized by an entire army while I'm dreaming away in here. Once again, I'm reminded of the transporter alcove.

I wonder if the Doctor has mentioned his 'conclusion' to the other patient involved as well. Reed must have dismissed it as ludicrous, of course. And he's perfectly right in that. Whatever thoughts I've had about Reed since the accident – whatever things he's said and done since then that I can't explain – won't change the fact that every time I dare to hope that we're about to settle our differences, he gets us right back into another argument. It's hardly the stuff of romance.

* * *

As soon as my session in Sickbay is over, I get straight back into schedule. I have lunch with my Alpha team, I do target practice, and I spend three hours running simulations, dictating reports, and preparing training scenarios. For some of my work, I have to use the main workstation in the Armoury, but it's with relief that I leave each time without having run into Reed. 

Fridays are Alpha team gear inspection days, so after a quick dinner on the go, I rejoin my people in our locker room to go through everything from weapons to EV suits. I seem to be the only one who finds these weekly inspections more comforting than boring, so I settle in my usual corner and test power cells while listening with half an ear to the others talking.

I want to believe it's just the lack of routine these last days that has thrown me off course, but that alone isn't enough to explain how aligning some circuits for Reed could make me completely forget an appointment. If my memory serves me right, it's the first time in five and a half years. 

Five and a half years ago, in May, Johann broke up with me and moved back to Denmark. I spent the following week in a haze, got some dates mixed up, and received an embarrassingly worried call from my CO. I guess Johann might have been another exception to that part about not becoming engrossed with human beings. _Funny, that._

Kemper calls for my attention, and I jerk my head up, a little flustered. He throws me something. I catch it and turn it over in my hand. It's a pair of Starfleet binoculars.  
”This is the third time in two weeks,” I state, not bothering to hide my annoyance.  
”Fourth,” McKenzie corrects me. ”Billy found another flashlight the other day.”  
”The strange part is that no one ever comes asking for all this stuff,” Kemper remarks.  
”Nah,” I say. ”They have so much spare equipment lying around we could probably appropriate half of it before they noticed.”  
Kemper and McKenzie throw each other a look. I frown at them.  
”Don't get any ideas!”  
They both begin to laugh, taking the rest of the team with them. Hearing them makes my world shift back into balance, if only for the moment. 

The only thing to do, really, is to pick myself up and carry on. We'll be meeting with the senior Starfleeters for their training session in less than an hour, and when we do, Reed can bet I'm going to be acting my age.

* * *

My palms are slightly damp when we enter the training area. As much as I try to avoid it, my eyes go to the empty spot on the floor some eight metres from the door – as if I had expected to still find blood there.

Reed is already here, so I march up to him and take the place at his side without a word. It doesn't escape me that several people, both MACO and Starfleet, are throwing glances at us, but the Lieutenant and I are both here as observers, so it makes perfect sense that we should be standing together. I maintain a neutral expression, trying not to think about the fact that everyone in the room probably knows some part of the story behind Reed's discoloured eye.

Kemper does a good job of leading the session, but the one who keeps impressing me the most is Ensign Mayweather.  
”Your helmsman shows real promise,” I say quietly to Reed. ”Too bad you need him to fly the ship.”  
”Well, he's a good _helmsman_ too,” Reed replies, the satisfaction evident in his voice.  
A few minutes later, the Ensign gets thrown to the floor by Cole. Reed leans closer to me.  
”That was a bit unorthodox?”  
I can feel his breath on my neck as he speaks.  
”Depends on your standard of comparison,” I say, trying to sound casual. ”It's a lot less brutal than it looks. Typical sparring move, not even that useful in a real fight.”  
Reed nods and relaxes a little.

I keep commenting on what we're watching, mostly because I can't help wanting Reed to stay close. Occasionally, he'll disagree politely with something I say, but most of the time he just listens. He smells of standard Starfleet soap and deodorant, but I could swear it smells better on him than on anyone else. Have I really never noticed that before? It would be so easy to get used to this with him – this kind of companionship – if only he'd allow it. 

When the session is over and everyone heads for the exit, the Lieutenant stops me with a hand on my shoulder.  
”I'd like to speak to you alone.”

My heart falls. _There goes_ that _ceasefire._

Moments later, we're the only people left. I turn and find Reed considering me. A muscle in his cheek twitches.  
”I want your suggestions regarding the transporter alcove before eleven hundred tomorrow,” he says. ”Commander Tucker and I will look into the practical issues and draw up a proposal.”  
I stare at him. Whatever I had expected, it wasn't this.  
”Very good, sir,” my voice supplies automatically.  
Reed nods sharply in acknowledgement. I wait for him to either add something or dismiss me, but he just shifts his weight and looks away.  
”Was there anything more?” I ask carefully.  
He looks up again.  
”Uh, no.”  
I turn and head for the door.

”Wait.”

It isn't an order. When I turn around, the Lieutenant's expression has changed into something more determined.  
”For what's it's worth – you're wrong. I _do_ know how guilty you feel.”  
I frown.  
”I'm sorry?”  
”For hurting me.”  
”Sir –”  
”Shut up,” Reed snaps.  
He looks a little lost before he softens his voice again.

”This crew means a lot to me. And it's _my_ job to ensure their safety. _My_ responsibility. Not a career opportunity for you to exploit.”  
I open my mouth to protest, but he isn't finished. He gains momentum now that he's talking, and his eyes have become bright and piercing.  
”I didn't think you understood that, or that you cared. To be honest, I didn't think you were capable of _having_ feelings. But you betrayed yourself the last time we were in this room together. When you came back for me, your control slipped. It wasn't very pretty, but your humanity shone through there for a moment. I want you to know that's why I changed my mind about you.”

When he stops talking, there's a moment of stillness. I break it by crossing the few metres between us.  
”I appreciate that,” I say sincerely. ”I wasn't sure you _had_ changed your mind about me.”  
Reed purses his lips.  
”Well, I can't say I was sure myself. But there it is, whatever it's worth.”  
A part of me thinks I ought to be offended by everything he's just told me, but all I can feel is an immense relief.  
”It's worth a lot to me,” I assure him.

Reed licks his lips and bites into the lower one.  
”Just glad it's out,” he says quietly. ”Even if we do succeed with this mission, we probably won't –”  
He trails off and gives me a look. I nod.  
”Yeah. Probably not.”  
”– seeing as we're both on the front line and all.”  
”Perks of the job.”  
Reed smiles mirthlessly.  
”Usually I'm told I'm being too negative.”  
I hold his eyes gravely.  
”I think you're being realistic.”

Reed looks about to say something to that, but in the end, he just shrugs. He's beautiful like this, even with the traces of bruising. All cheekbones and jaw, and bright eyes in stark contrast to that dark hair. Beneath the surface: brave, resourceful, deadly.

”You'd have made a fine MACO,” I hear myself saying, and the moment it's out, I realise how strongly I believe it.  
 _With the proper training, of course._  
”And you'd have made a decent Starfleet officer, I suppose,” Reed offers. ”I'm glad you're not, though. I prefer not having to take orders from you.”  
”I prefer that too,” I say. ”Not having to give you orders as one Fleeter or MACO to another, that is.”  
”True. We never would've got away with beating each other up if we'd held different ranks in the same organisation.”  
He grins, flashing sharp teeth.  
”Speaking of which – I think you owe me a rematch.”

He puts up his guard, slender hands balled into fists.  
” _Lieutenant,_ ” I chide.  
”We'll take it nice and easy.”  
”Starfleet sparring?”  
”Very funny.”  
”I can be.”  
Reed rewards me with another smile.  
”To be honest, Phlox said I'll be fine just as long as I don't get a second concussion or have pressure put on my eye.”  
”Good for you,” I quip mildly. ”I'm still peeing blood.”  
Reed snorts.  
”Well, sorry about that.”

He must know already that I won't resist the challenge. I can't take my eyes off him.  
”I'll do defence only,” I tell him, ”if you promise to keep away from my stomach and lower back.”  
”Agreed.”

We circle each other. Reed throws a couple of punches, but even counting for his impaired vision, I can tell he's not putting his best effort into it. The next time he comes close enough, I grab his wrist. He moves in, keeping his elbow close to his body, but as he breaks free, I hook my hand into the collar of his uniform. In a real fight, I'd have just committed suicide. This isn't a real fight.

Reed goes still and waits. His chest expands against my arms, and I can feel his heat even through the layers of clothing. I dare not look at him, so I lean closer until we're standing cheek to cheek. His scent is intoxicating.  
”Are you trying to hit me or not?” I grunt, my lips less than an inch from his ear.  
”We were supposed to take it easy, remember?” Reed gasps.  
”I didn't tell you to pull your punches, Lieutenant.”  
”Then maybe I shouldn't.”  
In a split second, all the potential energy of Reed's body translates back into strength and movement. I am prepared.

This is a language we both know how to speak. 

There'll be no trading apologies back and forth – no debating who's to blame for everything gone wrong between us. Reed won't try to force me to sob and come clean, because he's known everything he needs to know ever since I came back for him when he bled on the floor of this room. There are no questions, only punching and blocking – and this time we're doing it right.

Reed throws the fastest combination I've ever seen him do. I stand my ground, surprising even myself when I manage to deflect his punches. Every muscle in the Lieutenant's face betrays how much it riles him up. I grab his wrist again with both hands, allowing him to pull us close together.  
”I can handle anything you throw at me,” I whisper.  
Reed's questioning eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips.

I remove one hand from his wrist and take his chin between my fingers. Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice reminds me that there are regulations against this, even though I know that they don't apply. Reed isn't MACO. And even if they did, I stopped listening to that voice the moment I accepted his challenge. And then none of it matters anymore, because Reed doesn't pull away. He lets me. 

I lift his head and claim his lips. There is nothing soft about them – two thin lines pressed together – but he still doesn't fight me, so I keep kissing him. I shift my grip on his wrist, caressing the smooth skin below his sleeve with my thumb. The next thing I know, Reed bites me, _hard._ I flinch and pull back, catching a glimpse of grey eyes gone dark. Reed twists himself free. Then he puts both hands on the back of my neck and pulls me in again, mouth open and wet. His tongue brushes over my sore lip and past it. I put my arms around him, letting him lead this time, letting him take what belongs to him.

_How long have we wanted this? How much suffering could we have spared each other?_

We keep kissing as if the fate of the world depends on it. Reed's mouth is hot and demanding, and I shudder as his short nails dig into my scalp. My hands are all over his back, stroking and gripping and pulling him into me. He is small and annoying, and I need to touch every inch of him. I don't know how it happened, and I sure as hell don't care anymore. 

Then, suddenly, he pushes me away and backs out of my arms. I freeze, watching him as he turns and strides away without a word. In the next moment, I follow him toward the exit, confused and frustrated – not knowing if I'm chasing him or being led. 

The answer becomes clear when Reed reaches the door panel and enters a command. The door makes a rumbling sound as the heavy locks slide into place somewhere inside it, and I can't help but smile, because doing this with the Head of Security clearly has its advantages.

The Lieutenant turns back to me, eyes full of intent. He runs his fingers through my hair, but it's too short for him to find purchase in, so he settles on grabbing my uniform instead. It takes me a second to realise that he's trying to push me _down._ I hesitate before slowly getting to my knees, my eyes never leaving his. 

Reed's mesmerised expression tells me that I've got it right. He swallows hard, and then his hands go to his uniform. Fingers clumsy with arousal struggle with the zipper. He pulls it all the way down, then stops and looks at me – the unspoken question clear in his eyes. I close my eyes and lean forward, pressing my open mouth against the fabric covering his groin.

_Yes._

Reed makes a small sound in the back of his throat. He spreads his feet further apart for balance and pushes his uniform down from his shoulders and hips. I sit back and watch without interfering, forcing my hands to be still against my thighs. Reed holds my gaze as he lets his underwear join his uniform. When I no longer can resist lowering my eyes, he reaches out to caress my cheek. He pumps his freed erection once, slowly, and then holds it at the root, waiting. 

I take the head into my mouth, allowing his taste and smell to fill my senses. Reed waits for me to get him thoroughly wet before he rolls his hips and slides in deeper. His penis is not as thick as mine, but it's every bit as long. I want to run the tip of my tongue along each of the bulging veins, taking my time to explore him, but Reed puts his hand on the back of my head and thrusts hard. I hollow my cheeks and am rewarded with a ragged sigh.

Reed sets a relentless pace, and all I can do is try not to choke. It's not a blowjob as much as it's him fucking my mouth, but there is something so desperate and so intense about the way he breathes and shivers and holds on to me that I get the feeling he's as out of control as I am. He doesn't last long before his thrusts become erratic. I push his hands off me the moment before he tenses and goes still, but I still gag as his orgasm hits him. He keeps perfectly quiet when he comes, and afterward, the first sound to echo in the room is the strained groan I make as my lungs refill with air.

I look up at him, blinking away the tears that have formed in my eyes. His hand returns to my head, and he strokes my hair gently for a few moments.  
”Thanks for the rematch,” he whispers.  
He pulls up his underwear and puts his uniform back on. I remain on the floor, panting and speechless, while he unlocks the door and leaves.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I have jerked off like a teenager in my bathroom, mumbling Reed's name over and over again. I stumble out and straighten my clothes before closing my eyes and taking a series of slow, deep breaths. Having composed myself, I exit my quarters and head for the Armoury. 

I bring up the schematics for the transporter alcove and set the parameters for my simulations. The computer spits out the first results almost instantly. It doesn't take me long to decide which modifications I want to recommend, but since I have little idea of which approach Reed and Commander Tucker will prefer, I try to review every reasonable option and make my commentary as extensive as possible.

Besides, working keeps me from thinking too hard about other things.

When I'm done, I know that I should send my work to Reed and go to bed. I double-check a few details and rephrase some of my sentences, until I can't deny to myself that I'm just stalling. 

What scares me isn't the possibility that Reed already regrets what we did. What scares me is that I don't think he does. And yet – what am I afraid of? That we're letting things become personal? Things became personal the moment the two of us ended up on the same tiny starship. Were we better off despising each other? _Were we better off not understanding?_

* * *

I ring the doorbell to Lieutenant Reed's quarters. An eternity passes before the door slides open, revealing Reed in casual, off-duty clothes with a book in his hand. His eyes widen.  
”My suggestions,” I say quickly, holding the padd out to him. ”If you'd like to, I thought we could go through them together – just in case you have any questions.”  
Reed frowns as he takes it.  
”Well, if you're sure it can't wait until tomorrow –”  
He steps away from the door, letting me in. 

I look around while Reed puts away the book. The Lieutenant's quarters are larger than mine, but otherwise they look mostly the same. There are three stacks of padds on his desk, with the rightmost one being the largest. I wonder if he uses the same system as I do.  
”I'm afraid I only have one chair,” Reed mutters.  
He sits down gingerly on the edge of his bunk and gestures to the spot beside him. I accept the invitation, and Reed angles the padd so that we both can look at it. Keeping a wary eye on Reed's face, I take it from him and place it on the floor.

Reed's mild interest flares into full attention. He stays perfectly still, following my movements only with his eyes as I bring my hand up to trace his jawline. Encouraged by a sharp intake of breath, I lean close and press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck.  
”I must say I fail to see what this has to do with ship schematics,” Reed murmurs harshly.  
”Wait for it,” I mumble, just wanting him to shut up.  
I continue to lick and nip at the warm skin beneath his ear. When he tilts his head to the side, I sink my teeth deep into him. He grunts and his hands fly up to my shoulders, gripping them as if he can't decide whether to hold me in place or get me off him. I relieve him of the choice by pushing him down on his back.

Reed's eyes regain the angry gleam I'm so familiar with by now. He drags his hands across my chest, finding my zipper and ripping it down. I sit up and shrug out of my jacket as fast as I can with him beneath me, his hands already sliding up under my shirt. My throat constricts at the sensation. His fingers explore my chest and abdomen, finally seeking out my nipples and rubbing them before twisting both excruciatingly hard.  
 _”God!”_  
I push his hands away and manage, somehow, to get both our shirts off. While Reed's arms are still above his head, I take hold of his wrists and push them down into the mattress. 

I bend down and claim his mouth, forcing back a groan as our bodies connect. There is heat everywhere – heat and muscle and smooth, smooth skin. I have time to think it's almost unnatural before I realise it is. As a matter of fact, we have both undergone extensive regeneration therapy.

Reed pulls me out of my straying thoughts by biting and sucking hard on my lower lip. I release one of his wrists to run my palm over the bulge in his pants. He sighs and rocks into my touch, bringing his own hand down between us to reciprocate. I grind my chest against his, making my swollen nipples burn as he touches me for the first time, and even through my clothes, it's overwhelming. I need him _now._

He helps me open his pants, and I roll off him to deal with my own. I get rid of the rest of my clothes while I'm at it, watching him as he follows my lead. He's even more beautiful naked. I rub my hand over his abdominal muscles, feeling them ripple under his skin.  
”How's your eye?”  
Reed seems speechless for a moment, and I revel in the way my touch is capable of distracting him.  
”Just – no pressure,” he answers eventually.

I grasp his shoulder and roll him onto his side, away from me, so that his good side is facing the mattress.  
”This okay?”  
Reed makes a low sound of agreement. He reaches for his pillow and puts it under his head. I slip my arm in under there as well, holding him for leverage. My heart beats so hard I'm sure he can hear it when I press my erection firmly against his buttocks.  
”Can I?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.  
Reed nods into the pillow.  
”Please.”

I wet my finger with saliva and slide it along his cleft. He lies still and lets me. I close my eyes and focus again on the way his warm skin feels against mine, my body curving around his. When I open them, Reed's hand has gone to his cock. I pull my arm out from under his head and prop myself up to watch as he touches himself with short, steady strokes. 

When I press my fingertip against his opening, he pulls his leg up to give me better access. He lets out a shuddering gasp as I push it in, and then his strong hand leaves his erection and closes around mine instead. I thrust into his grasp reflexively, the pleasure white-hot despite the awkward angle. Reed does his best to stroke me while I work my finger into him. He's tight, and I keep listening for sounds of pain, but he just breathes deeply and pushes back against me.

I nip at his neck and shoulder before moving upward to play with his ear. His breathing quickens at that, so I tug at the lobe with my teeth as I sink my finger into his ass as deep as it will go. Reed's hand tightens around me.  
”We're going to need something slicker,” he murmurs.  
I pull out of him, taking care to do it slowly.  
”Give me my jacket.”  
Reed lets out a laugh, as if he can't believe what he's hearing, but he retrieves my jacket from the floor and drops it over himself.  
”You bastard,” he mumbles while I locate the right pocket and pull out the lube I've brought.

I sit up and lean over him, so he can see me with his good eye. Reed throws away the jacket and rolls onto his back. I let him watch as I drizzle lube over my fingers and cock, making a mess of his sheets in the process. He swallows and stares openly at me, face flushed, so I put on a show for him, stroking myself from root to tip and tugging on my balls until his breathing has turned rapid and ragged.

When I lie down again and manhandle him back onto his side, he settles in reluctantly.  
”Don't think you've _won_ just because I'm letting you fuck me,” he mutters.  
I respond by sinking my teeth into his neck again, holding him in place despite his gasps and protests. Reed's voice is amazing when it sounds like this – hoarse, low and husky. He could read me the torpedo specs in that voice, and I'd be on my knees begging for more. When his hand once more closes around me, I feel like my whole body is on fire. I lap at the battered skin of his neck and slide one finger all the way back into him.

Soon, I have two fingers inside his tight passage, thrusting them rapidly in and out. My cock is throbbing and leaking precome all over Reed's hand. It mingles with the lube as he works me over. When I can't stand it anymore, I pull my fingers out of him and replace his hand with my own. I have to close my eyes and bury my face in his neck when I enter him.

_God, it's been forever._

Reed tenses as my erection begins to fill and stretch him. I feel the muscles in his back convulse, but he doesn't move away – doesn't make a sound when I grip his hip and bury myself to the hilt. I hold still for a while, adjusting to the heat and pulsating tightness. I stroke Reed's hair and throat, continue down his chest, brushing my fingers over his nipples. He writhes against me as I drag my nails across his abdomen and down his thighs before cupping his balls, feeling the shockwaves of him touching himself roughly.  
”Just fuck me already,” he whispers.

I roll my hips hard, shoving him forward. He flings his arms out and grips the side of the bunk, arching back against me. I drive into him again and again, grasping his cock and stroking it in rhythm, repeating the movements I've seen him use on himself. Reed throws his head back and finally, _finally_ groans out loud. I think I'm going to come on the spot.

The position I've chosen may be kind on my back, but already, layers of sweat are forming on both our bodies. We're breathing heavily together, and Reed's thighs are trembling. I pick up the speed, unable to hold back. I want all of him. I love the way he smells, the way his muscles move under his skin, the way he holds back every sound, inviting me to force them out of him one by one.

He whimpers breathlessly when I bite his ear, gasps when I twist my hand on his cock. I pound into him with abandon, suddenly realising that I'm no longer quiet myself. Reed shudders all over before abruptly letting go. Feeling him clench around me pushes me straight over the edge, and I come hard inside him with his name on my lips, no longer knowing where his pleasure ends and mine begins.

* * *

We lie on our backs beside each other, looking up at the ceiling. I wonder if Reed isn't the cuddling type, or if cuddling is just something he'd obviously never do with _me._  
”So,” he laughs suddenly, ”am I supposed to call you 'John' now?”  
”Matthew,” I correct him.  
”What?”  
”My name is Matthew. John's just a family name.”  
”Oh.”

We throw a glance at one another before resuming our original positions.  
”So,” I say eventually, trying for the same casual tone, ”what do we do now?”  
Reed huffs.  
”Clean up this mess, probably. And then I'm going to sleep. ”  
He sits up and puts his feet on the floor. There are two purple bite marks on his neck, but the collar of his uniform will hide them in the morning. He stands up slowly and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I wipe myself off with one of my socks and tuck it away in a pocket before getting dressed. There's a soft splashing sound as the shower is being turned on in the bathroom. 

In the end, I guess this is just another of those things I didn't expect when I was assigned to this mission. In a region of space where the laws of physics can be bent and broken, some things apparently require unconventional methods – and occasionally an accident – in order to be straightened out and healed. Before I leave Reed's quarters, I place the lube on the shelf above his bunk. My eyes fall on the book he was reading when I came here. _A Farewell to Arms._

One of these days, we're going to do what we came here to do. And if Reed stays alive longer than I do merely out of spite, then I will still go to my death with a little more peace of mind.

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Because of Tumblr's obsession with The Winter Soldier, I now imagine the ex-boyfriend Johann looking like Sebastian Stan. Take it or leave it.


End file.
